


Just Desserts

by gritsinmisery



Series: Red Red Wine [2]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Nipple Play, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: Gene hauls Sam (and that bottle of Chianti) into the bedroom to try a few experiments of his own devising.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I lost the plot, or at least where I was going since this is really PWP. Never gonna finish. Sorry. Just stuck it here b/c I was cleaning up my computer.

“Right, you filthy boy, in you get.” Gene’s voice was a low growl, his lips close to Sam’s ear, warm breath ghosting against it. Still pushing Sam with one hand on the back of the neck, he steered his “collar” into the dark bedroom.

Sam dug in his heels, partly still in character as a crim and also a bit distressed at being shoved into an unlit, unfamiliar room. “There’s no light.”

“’Fraid of the dark, you great girl?” Gene steered him across the room a few feet. With a loud click, a bedside lamp suddenly illuminated the room.

Sam, who had been trying to see in the near dark, slammed his eyes shut and winced at the – what seemed to him – bright light. “Oi! Give us some warning,” he complained as he flung the arm with the bottle of Chianti in his hand over his eyes to block some of the light while they adjusted.

Reflexively reaching for the possible weapon flying through the air, Gene grumbled, “You whinge ‘cause it’s dark, then you whinge ‘cause it isn't. Shut it and gimme that bottle.” He tugged it out of Sam’s grasp.

His eyes still adjusting, Sam blinked a few times as he watched Gene set the bottle and a half-full wine glass down on the bedside table next to the lamp. “C’mere,” Gene beckoned, sliding a hand behind the smaller man’s head, pulling Sam into a kiss.

Sam had no idea where he wanted things to go when he started this little game at the table; he’d half-expected to end up on the floor in a heap when he first slid onto Gene’s lap. Now here he was standing in the man’s bedroom, drowning again in Gene’s kiss, in the taste of Chianti and Bolognese and cigarettes, the heat and the moisture and the overwhelming presence of the man. Sam’s brain shut down to the point where he barely registered the hand unbuttoning his shirt. He broke away gasping for air, pulling himself together enough to try to reciprocate. “Oh, okay… I can do that,” he murmured, reaching for Gene.

“No. Just hold still.” Gene stopped long enough to bat Sam’s hands away and resumed his ever-downward quest to undo fastenings, eyes intent on his task.

Letting his hands drop, Sam settled for simply enjoying looking at Gene’s face and the feel of Gene’s fingers brushing across his skin as the buttons opened. “Why not? Doesn’t seem fair…”

“I said I had some experimenting I wanted to do. I’m setting up the lab, so to speak.” Glancing up at Sam without lifting his head, Gene somehow managed to look coy. “Don’t you want to see if I’ve learnt my lesson, Perfesser?”

Sam shivered a bit as his shirt was pushed off his shoulders and he let it slide down his arms to the floor. “Um, yeah, when you put it like that… Everything?” he asked, as Gene hooked a finger into either side of his pants and tugged downwards all the clothing below Sam’s waist.

“Well, you were the one what mentioned red wine stains. Besides, I’ve got several things in mind; may need quite a bit of space.” Sounding strangely matter-of-fact about the entire business, rather than like someone who had just spent the last few minutes kissing until he couldn’t breathe, Gene managed with only a few slight pushes to get Sam onto the bed, then simply stood there, gaze traveling slowly down Sam’s length, eyes dark with something that looked to Sam like it might be possessiveness.

Sam, already a bit uncertain about just how things were going, felt even more nervous under the intense scrutiny of those green eyes. A certain portion of his anatomy, however, seemed to be quite pleased not only about being unconfined but also with the attention, getting extra from Gene as it stood up to be counted, as it were. Embarrassed, Sam aimed for a tone just as casual as Gene’s, but the words came out with a husky cough. “Oi, the experiments? Lab’s a dangerous place to get distracted.”

“Right.” Gene rubbed his hands together as if he was simply acknowledging a reminder of beer-o-clock. Picking up the glass of wine, he focused on his ‘laboratory.’ “First – we see if a rough surface or a smooth one’s better for yer little tension trick. You have to hold still now, you twitchy git; yer the one what said this is tricky.”

Before Sam knew what was happening, Gene leaned over and gave his nipple a quick nip. The abused area pebbled as the sensation shot straight to Sam’s groin. Eyes flying wide in shock, Sam gave a hiss of surprise and pain and raised his head to stare at Gene. “What was that for?”

“Need a rough surface, don’t I? Got one now.” The look he returned initially was bland, but Gene was so pleased with himself that he couldn’t help but waggle his eyebrows and smirk. Sam rolled his eyes in response and relaxed his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

Sam felt the bed give as Gene straddled his legs; something wet and a little cool dropped onto his nipple, and again closer up to the collarbone in a spot he guessed Gene had chosen as fairly level. He could hear Gene counting under his breath as he alternated dropping Chianti back and forth between the two spots. The second “three” was suddenly very close to Sam’s ear, and he twitched in surprise at the warm tickle. The upper drop started rolling toward his collarbone, and Sam was treated to the same torture he’d inflicted earlier on Gene: a warm tongue sliding roughly along his skin, catching the wine.

“You moved. I’ll have to start over with the other side,” Gene growled softly in Sam’s ear. Cleaning up after himself, Gene’s tongue swirlied around the wine-covered nipple. Sam gave into his need to moan.

Impatient, Sam didn’t let Gene get quite so far on the other side before giving a tiny shake to start the wine moving over his chest. Sam ran his fingers up through Gene’s hair, pressing him closer as Gene laved at his nipple and slowly worked his way up Sam’s neck and jaw, licking, sucking, and nipping, until finally plunging his tongue into Sam’s mouth, sharing what was left of the taste of wine. Sam returned the favor, seeking out all the flavors and textures that he was coming to discover were Gene.

When Gene finally pulled up out of the kiss, Sam laid there blinking at his very smug expression, and also at the surprise that somehow, in all of that, Gene had managed to shed his shirt without Sam noticing. Remembering the game they were supposed to be playing, and wanting to get a wee bit of his own back, Sam asked, “So -- do your conclusions match your hypothesis, then?”

It was Gene’s turn to blink, but with a complete lack of comprehension. “Do my conclusions match my… whut?”

“Your hypothesis – which way you thought the experiment would go.” Sam had to smile as he explained it. Apparently his Guv had been expecting accolades, not an inquisition.

“Well, the only thought I had about all this, other than continuing the fun we were having at the dinner table, was that you probably wouldn’t be able to hold still or keep quiet long enough for me to do it up proper, and I was right. Now, shut it --” and here Gene proceeded to help Sam with that order by filling his mouth with a hot tongue, keeping Sam from doing anything other than moaning in the back of his throat. After a few seconds, he reached up, untangled Sam’s fingers from around his neck, and pushed Sam’s hands down to the bed. Pulling out of the kiss, Gene continued, “ – and keep your hands to yerself, or I will be forced to find the ‘cuffs. I happen to remember exactly how you look in them and nowt else. It would take very little to bring me to use ‘em.” Green eyes locked onto brown, daring.

Sam shuddered. Closing his eyes, he remembered the first time Gene burst into his grotty flat and imagined himself in the same situation with Gene intent on checking out more than just his state of health. He suppressed a groan, deciding that discretion might be the better part of valor, especially on a first go, and resisted the temptation to give Gene reason to find his ‘cuffs.

When he opened his eyes again, Gene was still watching his face intently. “So, yer gonna behave, then?”

Sam just nodded.

“Ah, well. You’ll slip up sometime, and I’ll be waiting. Meanwhile, there’s more experimenting to do, yeah? You mentioned friction earlier, you dirty boy. Now, sometimes it’s a good thing,” Gene leaned in to stroke his trouser-clad cock against Sam’s bare one for just a second, “and sometimes it’s not. I think we’d should do some research on what might get rid of the bad kind, eh?”

Sam’s words stopped Gene as he reached for the wine glass. “Um, Gene? Need to protect your clothing from chemicals in the lab.”

Looking at Sam for a long moment, Gene finally gave a quick nod. “True enough. Since I don’t have a fancy white coat, guess I should just get them out of the working area then.” He slid off the bed.

As much as Sam would have enjoyed imagining Gene in a lab coat and nothing else, he was far more interesting in seeing the “nothing else” in the flesh. His gaze was riveted to Gene’s hands undoing his belt; his attention focused to the point where he didn’t even know his own hands were clenching the sheets.

Gene was quite aware of it though, as well as the look on Sam’s face, and took his sweet time undoing his trousers. He stepped out of them before hooking his fingers under the waistband of his pants, just to draw the moment out. The way Sam’s eyes widened when he pulled them off made his head swell as much as another portion of his anatomy.

“Right then, where was I? Ah yes, friction. More importantly, something to rid of it.” Reaching for the wine glass, Gene straddled Sam’s legs again. “Since we have this fine Italian product here, I guess we’ll start with it.” He tipped the wine from the glass into his empty hand, and let it slowly flow down to his fingertips and onto Sam’s cock, directly underneath.

Sam, who had been watching, dropped his head back to the pillow as the cool wine tricked down his overheated skin. When he felt Gene’s hand wrap around him, he closed his eyes and groaned.

A couple of strokes were all Gene got in before the wine evaporated. “Hmmph,” he muttered. “That’s right out, then.” Before Sam’s brain could kick in well enough for him to make a remark about keeping the lab clean, Gene was swirling his tongue around the head of Sam’s cock. Long strokes base to tip and back again, tongue-tip dipping into every little slot and crease; Sam was subjected to the most thorough -- and thoroughly enjoyable – cleaning of his life.

Just when Sam thought he’d have to give up and beg Gene to take him in his mouth, Gene sat back and surveyed his glistening work. “Well, Perfessor, seems we have a second candidate right here,” he observed mildly.

Sam came up out of his pleasure-induced fog enough to remember their game. “Cross-contamination,” he said, his voice more than a little breathy. At Gene’s puzzled look, Sam continued, “Your hand. Still sticky from the wine, yeah? Mess up the next trial.”

The hungry look in Sam’s eyes stopped Gene with his hand half-way to his open mouth. Instead he thrust it toward Sam, growling, “Yer the reason it’s sticky, you filthy lad. You clean it up.”


End file.
